The Russellville Democrat., 1887-07-06


 man, no longer young, sile gave me up. 1 She gave up faith, and trust, and hope because she had not that real love which l you describe.
 He stopped speaking. He had forgot ten the little girl in her calico gown, and was gazing abstractedly out of the window, hard lines of regret and pas sionate despair written on his face. Sud- denly he felt little, warm, soft hand laid gently on his, and Clarice said:
 "Mr Rogers, am so sorry He wrung the little working hand, and then he rose and went to his room and gave way to his new sorrow. Clar- ice folded her sewing and put it away; l but it comforted her as she went about her evening duties that MT. Rogers had listened to her story. and to know that he, too, had missed the love he dreamed of
 Several months had passed away. John Rogers had often found his way into the shabby little parlor and chatted with Clarice. Once he had found a bunch of flowers on his bureau, and no room in the house was such model of 1 order.
 One day as he sauntered into the par Tor toward dusk, hoping that his little friend would come there with her basket of mending and sit awhile, he heard the rustic of feminine garments, and, look ;,, er m, ca,xr fba+ 1,;c IonI1od,r ctnod ba | fore him. Mrs. Dean was awoman who prided herself on her former dignity. She wore a very long and dusty alpaca. It being no longer within her limits to trail silk, she trailed alpaca. Some per sons are of this mold. Her hands, which she folded majestically, were very grimy. Rogers remembered with pleasure that Clarice was always neat
 "Mr. Rogers" began the lady with unusual dignity, pray be seated. l have noticed for some time past that you have frequently of evenings found your way into my parlorand passed the time in conversation with my daughter Clariee. should not speak of this cir cumstanee had not events which have already come to pass taught me to be guarded. Clarice is no longer child, she is woman, with all woman's read mess to love pathetically. You, though not young man, are bachelor and ask you, as a mother, to spare my daughters feelings. As said before, 1 should not have spoken of this had not circumstance which transpired this morning led me to believe it was my duty, my most urgent duty. My daughter is in the habit of assisting with the homework, in clearing and putting in order the rooms of my gen tlemen boardeIs. This morning I en- tered your room, expecting to find Clarice distinguishing with all the light-heartedness inspired by a we'll fulfilled duty,' continued Mrs. Dean, waxing eloquent. Imagine my con sternation when found her kneeling by the bedside, her face pressed against the pillows, in tears. She sprang up and tried to hide her agitation, but Mir. Rogers, am widow with eight children and large houseful of board CTS. l can not have you trifle with the feelings of my daughter If you are in earnest you must desist" And the lady applied handkerchief to her eyes.
 It is said by some people that poverty is degrading. It had certainly proved so with Mrs. Dean.
 Madam, said John Rogers, with dignity, rising and laying his hand on the chair, Eff l had not already learned to love your daughter, this tale might work upon my sympathies and appeal to my honor, but it could never make words of love pass from my lips that my heart could not echo l can not ap. plaud your course in revealing your Gasghter's emotion, and which she would no doubt bitterly regret. love Clarice; she stole my heart when it was sore and bleeding, and if have awak- ened any response l am happier and more honored man than had believed.
 He bowed with the gentle courtesy which John Rogers always used to- ward women, and passed out of the room, leaving Mrs. Dean very much re- lieved. but somewhat humiliated. John entered his room and shut the door He struck light and turned on the gas, pulled down the shade and stood ir- resolute. Like one in dream he went to the bedside and laid his hand against the pillow. It was slight ly damp. He sank down in chair and covered his face with his hands. For a long time he sat there motion less; then he arose, took out his even ing newspaper, and lighted his cigar as usual.
 It was calm June afternoon.
 John, said Clarice, touching his arm with certain timidity she had never quite outgrown. life is a fairy tale, and love is beautiful, only it comes in different way"
 And this is the love we have dreamed of. {" And John Rogers looked into the dewy brown eyes of the little girl in the calico gown and putting his arm around her waist pressed her close to his heart.
 And the sunlight danced In at the window and touched the sweet lips learning to smile with heart content and the grave, fond face of John Rog- CTS. And itfoided them in it's embrace warm and beautiful. bright and golden, and it glorified even the shabby little